Tears of the Vestal
by TheFreelancerSeal
Summary: Who can dry tears that were not meant to fall? Who can share in a sorrow that was not meant to be held? Who can see the tears of a vestal? Up to chapter 1.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So, I branch out again. You know how you do something, and right away you just have to write for it. Well, that was the case when I played Bravely Default. I didn't really intend to write another new story just yet. I wanted to focus on my old ones first. But then, I just had to put it down on paper my thoughts on part of chapter 1.

Now, there's one thing you need to know. Yes, I realize that when a character changes jobs, they change outfits. I even wrote this with the jobs I had for the four characters in mind. Agnès was a white mage, Tiz was a knight, Ringabel was a black mage, and Edea was still a freelancer. But I also imagined Agnès in the dress we often see her in for this piece. So, don't nail me on that.

And so, I present my latest work.

* * *

**Tears of the Vestal**

**Chapter 1**

Agnès Oblige stood at the gates of the temple of wind with resolve at her goal and destination at the forefront of her thoughts. Her fellow travelers likewise stood with her, though for the moment, all four of them stood hunched and bent taking in deep breaths of the still air. She did not think it fitting for her, the vestal of wind and keeper of its crystal, to assume such a position, but over the protests of all she had been taught since she was but a child, her body could not bear to stand straight.

She had intended to leave the temple to begin the next stage of her journey to revive the darkened crystal, once she knew she had need to visit the woods of Yulyana. She had no more taken a step when the sounds of heavy footsteps sounded in the halls. She had heard the voice of her first companion, Tiz, call out in warning and had looked up to see the giant form of some monster looming at the side of the party. They had already fought many battles to reach the temple and many more so that they might reach the crystal altar. With little strength left, they had chosen to flee rather than stand and fight. In the mad scramble to escape, they had managed to elude the beast.

Now, they stood with the nearly pitch halls behind them, bearing the signs of their flight and the prior battles.

Agnès felt her fingers unwillingly loosen their hold on her staff, and she heard it land with a thump on the stones under her boots. Her legs groaned at having run so quickly. Her right shoulder stung bitterly from having been struck against a loosened stone in the wall during one battle. Her lungs burned as they took in the air, both the reeking smell of the darkness inside the temple and the heated and dry air of the desert. Her mind, though aware of her resolve, felt in the midst of a thick fog at having cast so many spells in so short a time to aid and protect her comrades. Despite the coolness of the temple still lingering, she already felt her hair and clothing growing damp with her sweat.

At last, she found the strength to hold her back erect, though her knees still found reason to cry out against her. She would have enjoyed a cooling breeze, but she knew none would blow until she had awakened the crystal.

"Do you think we're safe now?" she heard Tiz ask. From where she stood, Agnès could see him leaning upon his long sword as a bladed cane. She was certain that his strength was nearly spent at having swung such a heavy weapon so many times.

"For the time being, I would imagine," came the voice of Ringabel. Despite his rakish ways, Agnès was glad for him. His fire spell had managed to distract the monster they had encountered, and without him, she was certain they would have perished. "All the same," he added, "I don't think we should linger for long. I would hate to see some other monster leave some mark on the skin of such lovely ladies."

"Will you ever stop, Ringabel?" Edea asked, rather irately. Oh, how she hated his talk. Agnes, herself, might have shaken her head in her own disgust at his words if not for her own fatigue. "But," Edea added, "you're right. We'd better go now before we run into another monster."

Agnès reached to retrieve her fallen staff. "Yes," she declared firmly, though her growing weariness was apparent in her voice. "We must get back to the ship and then reach Yulyana woods quickly."

"I don't think we'll be getting back to the ship today," said Tiz. Agnès noticed his eyes looked towards the western sky. "It'll be dark soon." Indeed, the sun's light was fading away, and night would soon fall upon the desert. "We should probably head back to Ancheim tonight."

"But what of the crystal?" Agnès objected. "I fear what will come of it if we don't reach the sage soon. The crystal has gone darker since the day I fled. Without the vestal's garb..."

"The garb won't do any good if we don't have the vestal to wear it," Edea protested, over the words of Agnès. "I'm tired, _you're_ tired, and I don't want to be wandering the desert at night just to be food for some monster. I say we make for the inn."

Agnès shook her head, though the action hardly seemed firm, and she opened her mouth, "But..."

"I don't often disagree with a lady, especially if it involves a particularly lovely one, and I don't see any reason to change that practice now. Besides, we could all use a good meal and a bed before we set out again. It might just do you good, Agnès. After all, a little rest does wonders for the complexion."

"Unacceptable," Agnès declared, though even she was surprised to hear the lack of fervency in her words. "We must reach Yulyana woods. The crystal; without its light returned, this world will slowly die with it."

"Please, Agnès," said Tiz. "Who knows what's out there at night. Don't go risking your life any more than you need to. Think of the acolytes who protected you. I think they would understand."

At the mention of the women who had shielded her those days ago, Agnès found her voice silenced. And so the others began their trek across the desert, and she walked slowly alongside them.

* * *

The sun had nearly set when they saw the lights of Ancheim appearing before their eyes. Agnès had not spoken a word nor even made a single sound. She heard the grateful sighs of her companions, but she remained as silent as the air. From the corners of her eyes, she saw glad smiles appearing, but she could not bring such an expression to her own face, although she knew she had reason. Her legs were heavy from the shifting sands, and her shoulder continued to sting, though the pain had eased by now. Even though the wind had ceased to blow, the night air of the desert sent chills through her clothing. Her belly desired food, and her body and mind could scarcely fight off the growing fatigue. To make for the inn was surely the best course.

Yet Agnès still wished they had made for the ship to continue their quest.

Her thoughts continued to dwell upon the urgency of her mission. Despite the haze upon her mind, Agnès intended to keep her focus solely on what she knew she must do. Her one goal was to see the crystal restored, for that was the purpose to which she was born and raised. She reminded herself that this one thought was what she must hold. And yet, she found her hold on it weakening with every step she took.

She found herself recalling that day when the crystal grew dark, and the darkness lunged for her. She thought of the acolytes who had hurried to shield her with their own bodies. More than this, she remembered the hope she had held that some had managed to survive. As she saw again the ruined temple, the habits torn to pieces, the acolytes vanished, and the stones of the floor painted red with blood, each step she took only reminded her that she had held that hope in vain.

Agnès shivered, partially from the cold and partially, she knew, from fear. She did not wish her mind to wander to such dark places, and she found it doing so with ease. Again, she tried to fix her thoughts on the need of the vestal's garb and the restoration of the light of the crystal. It pained her head to maintain such focus, but she knew she must try.

Once more she wished that she could have persuaded her companions to brave the desert night and reach the ship. Once more, she wished that she were on her way to the sage of Yulyana woods rather than a bed in the city of Ancheim.

* * *

When the small company had finally reached the inn, Agnès heard a soft chorus of grateful sighs, though she did not add her own. The heat of the room fell upon her, though the cold on her skin still lingered. She noticed Edea rubbing her hands together, and Tiz still shivering. In the safety of the inn, she saw them grow loose, letting their shoulders sag. She did none of this, for she still fought to keep her mind and her will upon her quest, though Agnès felt her dedication slowly waning, now that it had found a moment to do so. She followed softly behind the three of them as they found an empty table and sat down.

Agnès bowed her head to stare at the wood of the table. She could briefly see Ringabel beckoning the innkeeper to serve them. She could hear Edea talking, though her words sounded far away, even though the blonde-haired girl sat beside her. If she had looked up, she would have seen Tiz fix his eyes upon her with a gaze filled with concern. All her thoughts clung to the crystal, not to the sense of loss and shattered hope trickling into her heart. She could feel it entering her very soul, slowly but unceasingly. Harder and harder, she strove to master her own will and keep it from venturing away from the task which she was to perform, yet she felt all the more wearied for her efforts.

A light pain in her side brought Agnès back into the moment, and all at once, every voice in the inn seemed louder. She looked to the side from which the small blow had come and saw Edea staring at her with an elbow poised to strike at her ribs.

"Are you even listening?" said the blonde-haired girl. "I know you're the silent type, but even you're being too quiet now."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Agnès replied. "What was it you asked?"

"You weren't even listening. I asked you if the desert always got this cold at night. I've seen a lot of winters before, but I never thought the desert could be as cold."

"The temple was kept well to keep out the cold," answered Agnès. "It was only cool, even at night." Her voice wavered slightly, and she hoped that none of the others would hear it.

"Well, it must have been better than out there," Ringabel said. "I'd hate to see a lady have her skin turn blue in the cold. I prefer a little shade of peach, or even slightly pale, much like yourself, Agnès."

"Unacceptable," the vestal snapped, finding a little strength. "I am the vestal of wind, not some..." she could not find the word to use for the type of woman who would accept such words with ease. Right away, she noticed her words sounded far harsher than she intended, though she never could abide his manner of teasing. To her displeasure, Ringabel merely smiled.

"You know, you are rather lovely with that tint of red in your cheeks, though I'd much rather that tint along with something a little less...dressy," he said, pointing to her clothes, "nothing too suggestive at first, but..."

"Leave her alone, Ringabel," said Tiz, sounding tired of such words himself. "She just found out she's lost everyone she knew. So, don't keep on her like that."

Agnès winced at the words spoken for her. She felt a fracture, small but a fracture nevertheless, form across her heart. She knew Tiz had said those words with noble intentions, and yet she wished he had not said them at all. Deep within, she felt the fresh sting of grief, even as the aches and pains in her body had finally faded. His words, though said for her, seemed to renew the pain, as if she had torn open a wound. She did not hear the rest of the conversation, as she resumed the staring that she had done only earlier.

"Eat up," she heard the voice of Tiz bid them. With a light shake of her head, Agnès saw that a plate had been set before her. She briefly turned her eyes upward to see that each of them had been given a similar plate. While she saw the others begin to dine on some sort of meat that she did not know, she looked down to see an assortment of foods that she had once found enjoyable. The collection of sweet dates, plump desert figs, and white cheese seemed to stare back at her, and she recalled the same meal served to her at the temple. One acolyte in particular, she remembered, would do her best to gather such treats, for she had always known how Agnès enjoyed them.

The memory quickly turned dark, however, just as the crystal had done. Once more, Agnès thought of the hope she had held, a hope she had always known was held foolishly but one she could not have denied until now. Once more, she saw the darkness lunge for her and the lights of the temple candles move in front of her. Once more, she saw the darkness move undeterred, swallowing up the acolytes in her place. Once more, she saw the aftermath, the saddening scene that she had beheld that day.

Agnès fought back the urge to weep. She could not bear to take even a single bite, for she found the sight of food unappealing, even as her belly longed to be filled. She quietly rose, though the sound of her chair sliding away prompted the others to look away from their own meals.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Tiz asked.

"I...I don't...I don't have much of an appetite," she managed to say in reply.

"Agnès..." he said with concern.

"I'm fine," she stated quickly. "I'm just tired." She started to walk away. "I'm going on to bed," she added without looking back. Over her shoulder, she heard the sounds of Airy's wings beating as they always had, Tiz calling her name once more, and Ringabel calling the fairy back to the table and biding Tiz to remain silent. But she cared little for each of them at this moment.

Though the inn of Ancheim was much smaller than the inn in which they party had previously stayed while within the kingdom of Caldisla, a stairway still led to a second floor to the bedrooms. Agnès quickly began to climb, although each step pained her wearied legs. With each thump of her boots against the stone floor, she felt the tiny crack across her heart begin to grow. Once again, she reminded herself of the words she had spoken when she first beheld the awful sight within the walls of the temple.

_"Yet I haven't the leisure to send them on, or to mourn them. I'm not allowed even the luxury of grief."_

She had spoken with truth then, yet now her own words sounded hollow and void of meaning within her mind. She whispered them, but again, they lacked the significance they had held only hours ago. And so, Agnès tried to recall the teachings she had been given when she was still but a child, groomed to take the place of the mother vestal. Though the acolytes were tasked with her welfare and upbringing, the mother vestal had seen to her preparation for the years to come, and Agnès hoped her words of wisdom would now bring her comfort.

_"You are to be my successor, Agnès, and you must remember that at all times. When I am gone, your one purpose will be to watch over the crystal and to ensure that your prayers to it never cease."_

And yet, with every remembrance of those words, Agnès found other words springing forth from the depths of the growing fissure within her own soul; words she did not dare to utter. With each step, she struggled to keep her teachings within her mind.

_"A vestal has no time for the things that trouble those outside the temple walls. This is why we must seclude ourselves from the world, unless it is required of us. Your entire life must be devoted to the crystal, for your prayers will sustain it and in turn sustain this world."_

Agnès clutched her chest as she continued to climb those stairs, recalling the sight of the red stains upon the floor; the stains of blood, young blood, blood that was not at all unlike her own.

_"Do not let your heart be troubled at all. A vestal must keep to her purpose, in spite of all else. Do not let your heart be filled with passions, the luxuries that we cannot possess; anger, desire, love, or even grief."_

She found her breathing growing rapid and unsteady as she found herself only halfway up the staircase. She fought to recall another of her teachings, given to her one day, long ago, when an acolyte had passed suddenly due to illness

_"All things must die at some point, Agnès. That is the way of it. Even my life will end one day. Do not mourn for me. Do not grieve for me. Do not grieve for any, not even the acolytes who tend to you. You must devote every moment of your life to the task that is given to you, just as I have done."_

Though the words came to her mind with ease, Agnès found no comfort in them. She breathed heavily as she reached the top step, still clutching the place where she could feel the pained beating of her heart, as though she were striving to keep it from shattering just as her hopes had done. She wished only to reach her room, but first she took one quick glance behind her and hoped to hear the sounds of activity. It was not long afterward that she heard the sounds of utensils lightly tapping the dishes, faint as it was. Satisfied, Agnès turned her eyes back towards the small hall before her.

She ran the rest of the way to her room.

* * *

Agnès closed the door quickly behind her as she hurried inside the small room she shared with Edea. The door struck its frame loudly, though she paid it no mind. Her legs burned at having once again fled, but she counted the pain as nothing next to the splintering of her heart. She wished once more that she was on board their airship and bound for Yulyana, for then it might have been easier to keep her mind fixed upon her quest. While she had earlier said that she had neither the leisure nor luxury to mourn, she now had both on this night.

She felt the first tear form in her eye, and it began to fall down her cheek. Then she felt a tear form in her other eye. Her shoulders began to tremble, and her eyes began to fill anew. With a sharp breath, she felt her heart finally shatter. Overcome with weariness and sorrow, she felt her legs give way, and she fell to her knees. She covered her face with her hands as the tears spilled forth from her eyes. She shook as sobs escaped her mouth. The words she had struggled to recall and apply were lost from her mind, as she could only think of the loss of so many lives, innocent lives.

For the first time since she was but a child under the care of the mother vestal, Agnès Oblige wept uncontrollably.

"Why?" she managed to say through her weeping. "Why did...why did they have to die?" Her words were lost as the tears came once more, and the sobbing choked what she wished to say. Her gloves grew wet, but she did not care to remove them. Her thoughts no longer drew themselves to the crystal or the need to restore the vestal's garb so that she might see the light return to the crystal and the wind return to the world. In place of all the things she knew she must do, her thoughts filled with faces, memories, and the realization of loss as the fabric of her gloves filled with the water and salt from her eyes.

When, at last, her tears began to fall more slowly and the sobs began to ease, she rose. She felt her knees groan as she stood. Slowly and sorely, she walked to her bed and without care or consideration, she threw herself down upon it. She turned her back to the door, lying upon her side, and drew her knees upward, as though she were a child frightened by the raging storm. Despite her age of twenty, Agnès felt as a child in her heart, a child who had only now learned of loss.

Her hand again clutched at her heart, but she found herself taking hold of the pendent around her neck, gripping the jewel at its end. She held it to her chest, hoping that it might bring her comfort as it often had since she was but a child. She slipped the band over her head and opened her hand, gazing at the stone of blue.

"They were family," she said to the jewel as new tears coursed hotly down her cheeks, "Not in blood, but they were all family to me. They were sisters and mothers when I came to them. And now...now they're gone; gone without a trace, except scraps of cloth and blood."

Her fingers slowly closed around the stone as she brought her eyes towards the ceiling, wishing they could see the sky instead of the cold walls wrought of metal. "Why did this have to happen? None of it makes any sense," she said in lament. "The crystal has never gone dark before." In her heart of hearts, Agnès felt a twinge of anger filling the fractures within. Unlike the winds she was charged with keeping, it did not have any direction. "Why?" she said again, wondering toward what might she direct this flame within her. Was it the crystal itself for going dark? Was it the darkness, the nameless, faceless thing that had consumed it? Was it the life to which she was born and raised? Was it her own lacking in her task? She did not know, nor could she rightly assign blame.

"If I were not the vestal," she whispered as her tears slowed once more, "would this not have happened or would I only have the luxury of ignorance? If the mother vestal were still alive, could she have stopped all this? Or would the acolytes have died just the same?"

Agnès said nothing more, for she could not find any words to say. She only continued to face the wall, sobbing softly, and moment by moment, she felt her strength waning. She felt her eyes growing heavy, and she rubbed them with her free hand. Before she could think to close them, she heard a knock at the door.

She moaned softly, wondering only who it could be. She remained quiet, hoping whoever her visitor was would simply leave. If it was the innkeeper, she did not wish to see him. If it was any of her company, she did not wish them to enter. The knocking came again.

"Agnès," came a voice she recognized as Tiz. "Are you all right?"

She did not bother to turn her face towards the door or rise to bid him entrance. She only continued to gaze sadly at the wall. "Yes," she managed to say, hoping her voice did not betray her sorrow. "I'm all right, Tiz."

"Are you sure?" she heard him ask. "Please let me in, Agnès. Maybe I can help."

For the briefest of moments, she held the thought of opening the door for him, and she raised her head slightly. If any of them could be of any comfort, it would surely be Tiz. However, like the winds themselves, the thought faded from her mind as quickly as it had come, and she laid her head back upon the pillow.

"No, I'm all right," she said, softly but loud enough for him to hear.

"Please, can I come in? I don't want you to be alone in there."

"I'm not dressed, Tiz." She felt her face grow hot, not just from the tracks of her tears, but from the lie she had spoken. She looked at herself as much as she could manage. Her dress still covered her, her bolero was still wrapped around her shoulders, her gloves still covered her arms. She had not even removed her boots or headband. "I'm tired," she added, knowing it was more truthful. "Please let me rest."

She did not hear his answer, for he had not given one. She listened closely for any sound of his leaving, and when she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps, Agnès held her breath until she heard them no more. When again there was only silence, she sighed heavily. She clutched her small pendant with a firmer grasp as she felt her heart begin to ache at his departure, though her wearied mind could hardly muster a thought as to why she should miss him. Her eyes again grew heavy, and she could not bear to dwell any longer on her grief and loneliness.

When her eyes could no longer abide their weight, Agnès permitted them to close, and as blackness overtook her and a dreamless sleep consumed her, she found it a great relief to a saddened heart and a troubled mind.

* * *

**A/N: **When I first saw that scene where she says she doesn't have the luxury, I thought Agnès was kind of repressing her own emotions. I know she's so focused on her duty, but I also thought that if she had the chance to not think about it and if she were away from everyone, she might actually break down and cry. No one can be that strong all the time.

I'd also imagined this as a one shot at first. But then I thought I could keep going for a bit, so this is now a short story. Hope you enjoyed it.

A big shout-out goes to HaveAHeart0301, who has been my beta for many pieces, including this one. I couldn't do it without you.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Well, I return with the next part of my Bravely Default debut. Before I even started the first chapter, I knew I wanted to have two points of view, one from Agnès, and the other from Tiz. So, that's what this chapter consists of - Tiz's thoughts on what's happened. Let me tell you, this was hard to write. But anyway, here it is, and I hope it's good. This picks up during the meal at the inn.

Credit goes to HaveAHeart0301 for reading this. I couldn't do it without you.

* * *

"Leave her alone, Ringabel. She just found out she's lost everyone she knew. So, don't keep on her like that."

Tiz Arrior had noticed her wince as he spoke those words, even as slight and discreet as it was. He could not help but notice as he sat across from Agnès, looking into her saddened expression. Though he knew he should not stare, Tiz found it unavoidable.

As he gazed upon her, he wished now that he had not mentioned the loss that she had discovered only a mere few hours ago. Though her face seemed to fight to maintain a certain look of bravery, Tiz could see the wound across her heart plainly in her brown eyes. Though Agnès kept her gaze upon the table, he could see what she wished to hide, and he realized that he had not helped in the slightest.

Tiz shifted slightly in his chair as the moments went by. The mood at their small table began to grow thick, as heavy and as dripping as the summers he could recall in his early years. All the while, he saw the face of Agnès seem to grow darker, like the clouds so full of rain that they could not contain the burdens they bore. Tiz wished that he knew some art, some spell, some way to turn back the passing of time, but he was not even sure that such a skill was known in this world. If he could, then perhaps he could have undone the careless reprimand to Ringabel and spared Agnès her pain. Yet, Tiz knew that no magic could erase the words already spoken, as much as he wished it were possible.

When the idle talk began again, Tiz barely noticed the words exchanged. Neither Ringabel nor Edea addressed him as they spoke, and he was partially glad of it. He knew that they did not exclude him purposely, but he doubted that he would have made for a decent conversation. Yet, he also wished to be included so that he might try to ease the mood that existed between him and the vestal of wind.

Oh, he was certain that Agnès would not hold his words against him. In the time that they had spent in each other's company, he thought that they had grown to understand one another. As he watched her sitting alone even among them, he hoped that the talk might somehow lighten her heart. But Ringabel and Eden seemed to speak to no one but each other. Though he had not heeded their words, Tiz was fairly certain that the man seated next to him hoped to impress Edea, and she, with words of fire, refused him.

Tiz heard his belly call out for food just then, and as the moments passed, he found himself hoping that they would soon be served. He hoped that a meal and some rest would make the next part of the journey easier, but he also began to wonder if they could have gone onwards to their ship, as Agnès had wanted to do. He had known that it was better to seek shelter rather than risk their lives among the desert sands at night, but all the same, Tiz began to think that perhaps his friend could have avoided what new aches in her heart that stopping for the night had provided.

If they had taken to the skies and sought shelter in Yulyana, perhaps Agnès might have felt even slightly more at ease than here at the inn. It was foolish, he knew, since they were all tired, hungry, and weary from the battles at the temple. Still, Tiz could not help but ask those questions silently to himself.

Tiz ran a hand back and forth through his unruly hair, if only to pass the time, as he waited, trying not to think of the words he'd said and the look of sadness painted on the face of Agnès, a face that he knew all too well. And when, at last, the plates were set before them, Tiz sighed happily. He hoped that, perhaps with a full belly, Agnès might find herself comforted, even slightly. He had no doubt that she was as hungry as he was, for the battles within the temple were difficult and his lean frame had not yet grown accustomed to his heavy sword. Tiz looked down at his plate and smiled slightly at the welcome sight of the roasted goat meat and the plump figs of the region.

"Eat up," he said, trying to sound cheerful in the hopes that it might help. He ate well, despite the sober air that still lingered. He had never tasted the fruit of the desert before, but Tiz found it enjoyable. As he took bites of the goat, Tiz found pleasing memories of his home coming to mind. Though he, too, had witnessed the terrible sights of Norende and the wind temple, he found his own spirit growing happier. Though he likewise held the same anguish that the young vestal did, he could not help but find his mood lightened with his hunger satisfied.

And yet, when Tiz turned his eyes upward, his face and heart fell at the sight of Agnès.

She had not touched even a bit of food. Her eyes only fixed themselves upon her meal which went without as much as a nibble, and Tiz thought he saw an errant tear beginning to form, though he could not say for certain. Yet, he knew she wished to weep; that much he could see. Tiz's mouth formed into a single line of concern for her as he watched her sit as still as a stone. Her arms hung listlessly at her sides, unwilling to raise themselves to nourish her. Her own mouth seemed to quiver, as if she fought to keep from sobbing.

Tiz found himself wishing that she would, if only to ease her troubled soul. He was no stranger to grief and loss, and if it would do her good, as it had to him, he would rather see her eyes fill with tears than struggle to hold them back. And when Agnès slid her chair back, Tiz felt his head slightly pull back in surprise. He watched her stand to her feet and begin to turn away.

"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked, hoping that she might be persuaded to remain with them.

"I..." replied Agnès, and Tiz inwardly winced at the sound of her voice catching in her throat. "I don't...I don't have much of an appetite."

"Agnès," he said. He was not sure of what he would say, but his mind worked to devise whatever words that could convince her to stay and eat. Try as he might, however, no words came to his thoughts nor passed his mouth, and Tiz felt his thoughts scramble for any word at all, apart from her name. When he remained silent, Agnès quickly spoke again.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, as if she were trying to reassure herself rather than her companions. "I'm just tired." Tiz watched as she turned away and began to walk. "I'm going on to bed," she added, and Tiz could only sit and watch as she rushed quickly past Airy towards the stairs.

"Agnès, wait for me," the fairy said, trying to keep up with her. "I'll stay with you."

"Agnès, please come back," added Tiz as he watched her cross the room.

"Come back here," Ringabel ordered, rising as he did. To the surprise of Tiz and also Edea, he reached out and quickly snatched the hovering Airy around the middle. And when he had returned to the table, Tiz saw him turn to him out of the corner of his eye, even as his watched Agnès leave.

"I should follow her," he said urgently. The last word had no sooner left his mouth when he began to rise.

"Let her go," replied Ringabel, using his other hand to press upon Tiz's shoulder until he sat back in his chair. "If you keep squirming like that, I'm going to practice my fire spells on you," he said to the struggling fairy in his grasp. "Stay here and I'll let you go."

"Fine," Airy said crossly. "But someone should be there with her."

Tiz, however, kept his eyes fixed upon the departing girl as she hastened up the stairs. He watched as her hand clutched her chest, as if she were holding the shattered fragments of her own heart. Tiz thought his heart might leap from his own chest as it went out to her, for in her, Tiz saw the same grief that had lingered with him to this day. Even now, he could see the earth opening its gaping jaws to swallow all of Norende and his own brother. Even now, he could hear Til screaming in utter terror as he plunged to his doom. Even now, he could hear his own cry of anguish that he could not have saved him.

And when he heard the quickened thumping of Agnès's boots, Tiz no longer wished to stay and eat. The words of Airy seemed to linger in his ears, and once more, he started to rise. Ringabel again pressed upon his shoulder to remain.

"I said to let her go," he said.

"But I can't just let her be alone up there," Tiz answered, as if he were in a desperate scramble for her life. "Like Airy said, someone should be there with her."

"You don't know that much about women. If you want that kiss, you need to do more than just make them flutter around you. Sometimes, you need to know when to leave them be. If you do, I can promise that they'll like you more, and there will be better rewards."

"Can't you ever talk about something else?" Edea asked with displeasure in her voice. "He doesn't want Agnès to 'flutter around' him. He doesn't want her to kiss him or whatever you think she'll do. He just wants to be there for her."

"She doesn't want anyone to be there for her; not now," replied Ringabel, and it seemed to Tiz that he gave those words more as the words of instruction. It also seemed that those words were not meant for the blond girl across the table but rather for him and for him alone. Though he was of a simple upbringing, Tiz did not fail to notice that his friend had but one eye turned towards Edea and looked most upon him. So, Tiz again sat down to eat, though he often glanced at the stairs, and in his heart, he hoped that it was not acting wrongly by leaving Agnès alone to the grief and despair he was sure she held within her soul.

The meal was slow in its completion, and Tiz found his own appetite now diminished. Thoughts of the vestal and her departure continued to linger on in his mind. He looked down at his plate and thought that he had eaten enough to last until morning. Most of the meat was gone, although a large chunk still remained, and he'd eaten half of the figs. At this moment, that was plenty.

"I'm going upstairs," he stated, and he did not wait for any answer from his companions. As quickly as he could manage without looking out of sorts, he hurried to the staircase, even as the voice of Edea called him back. Her tone rang louder and louder of desperation as he left, but Tiz did not turn.

* * *

At first, he intended on going to his room. He was tired from the day's toil and struggle against beast and even the very sands of the desert. To his wearied body, sleep seemed as a blessing. He had never known such labor before when he was still a mere shepherd. Yet, when his eyes gazed down the small hallway towards the room where Edea and Agnès would sleep this night, Tiz found he could not simply put the same thoughts out of his head.

He worried for her. He worried what ideas she might have entertained alone in her sorrow. He worried that the will to go on would no longer hold as strongly as it had at the temple. He feared that he could not keep her safe as he had managed to do in Caldisla. Tiz found his footsteps drawn to the door at the far end of the hall. He faltered as he neared the room, wondering if he should simply leave and go on to bed, as he had originally intended.

Perhaps, he wondered, Ringabel was truly right. Perhaps Agnès indeed wished for some solitude in what was surely a dark time for her. Perhaps it was best to leave her alone. And yet, when Tiz thought of her silence as they neared Ancheim, her lack of interest in food, and her sudden departure, he did not think it wise to let her suffer alone. He had likewise known what it was to hold to a shred of hope and to hold it in vain. He had hoped to find some piece of Norende still intact, though he had always known such hope was merely the wishful thinking of a fool. Still, he knew all too well the sort of despair of having even a paltry hope crushed.

Swallowing, Tiz raised his hand and knocked. His thumb ran nervously across his curled fingers as no sound came from the room beyond. At first, Tiz wondered if Agnès were indeed asleep, though he wished to know she was well nevertheless. As moment by fretful moment passed, Tiz knocked again.

"Agnès," he said, with a soft voice, hoping it would sound soothing to her ear. "Are you all right?" Tiz pressed his own ear to the door, hoping to hear any sound at all. He sighed with a great relief, though he was not quite sure why, when he heard her voice give an answer.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm all right, Tiz." Her voice sounded soft but broken, as though she were trying to hide her own sorrows, though unable to do so entirely. Tiz wished to be near her just then. He wished to be at her side, and if Agnès wished to weep, he wished to allow her to shed the tears onto his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" Tiz asked, again nervously running his thumb over his fingers. "Please let me in, Agnès. Maybe I can help."

Silence met his waiting ears, and he found himself wondering what might be happening behind the door. Was Agnès rising to do as he asked? He thought he might have heard her boots if that were so, unless she had taken them off. He wondered what thoughts might be coming to her mind. In his own mind, Tiz thought time itself had stopped, as the moments seemed endless, though he had not stood before the room for long. At length, he heard the voice of Agnès come once more.

"No, I'm all right."

"Please, can I come in?" Tiz pleaded. He cared not if it sounded unfavorable for one his age to plead as he did. His one thought was to watch over the vestal, even if he hadn't known her for long. "I don't want you to be alone in there."

"I'm not dressed, Tiz," Agnès answered. Though he would not have wished them to do so, Tiz felt his eyes grow wide and his face grow red at her words. He shook his head, and his cheeks grew cool again, though he could not help but feel a sense of shame for allowing thoughts more apt to come to Ringabel's mind into his own. "I'm tired," he heard her say. "Please let me rest."

Her voice was firm and definitive, as though she intended to exchange words no longer. No words came from his own mouth, for he could not find any to say. Indeed, he wondered, what else could be said? He knew she would not let him in. So, with heavy steps and a fallen heart, Tiz turned around and walked the length of the hall to his own room.

He sat down upon the bed long enough to relieve himself of his boots before he laid himself down flat on his back and stared idly up at the ceiling. He was tired, but he did not find sleep an easy thing. While he had not slept well since the ending of Norende, tonight, it was the young girl only a few feet from his door, overcome with the sorrows of loss, that held his own troubled thoughts.

With nothing else to do, he simply resigned himself to waiting. He waited for the long hours to pass until sleep would overtake him even as a slight ache overtook his own heart and soul. As Tiz laid there, he found he could not keep from asking questions to the still and silent air.

"Why can't you let anyone in, Agnès?" he whispered. "Why can't you let me in? Do you think I wouldn't understand? Do you think that just because you're the vestal that you can't open up to anyone?"

As he waited and longed for sleep, Tiz thought back to the moment when he had first seen Agnès. From the day he had met her at the deathly remains of his home, he had protected her from danger, even when the danger was of her own making. He recalled when she was willing to face certain torment and death at the hands of the Eternian forces who demanded her surrender. He had fought to defend her then, and he had prevailed against both might and magic. Yet now he could not keep her from her own wounded heart.

"Why do you have to push people away? Why do you think you have to stand alone?"

And as the memory of when Agnès insisted on traveling with him and him alone came, Tiz felt his heart grow heavier. She had trusted him then, and yet her words told him that she did not wish to open herself to any in her darkest days.

"After all we've been through, can't you see that you don't have to suffer alone? Can't you let someone in to help you?"

When the silence of the small room met his ears, Tiz said nothing more. He tried to close his eyes, but in the darkness, he could see Agnès alone and on her knees covering her face with her hands. All at once, he saw her lie prone upon the floor, and then she did not move at all. At once, his eyes snapped open, unwilling to endure such a sight a moment longer. While Tiz had thought Agnès a strong woman in her own way, he could not help but fear for her now that the hope he knew she held was utterly destroyed. He had known, even in his small village, of those who could not bear their own grief. Even he, himself, when he had first laid eyes on the destruction wrought by the earth, had thought that life itself was too heavy to bear, until he had found one to serve as his light through the darkness.

Though his head tried to reassure him that Agnès would be well, his heart would not allow it. He needed to know that she was indeed well, but he did not think he should return to her room. And so once again, he did nothing but wait. Perhaps if they had reached the woods of Yulyana, he might have had the opportunity to know what pain Agnès held this night, and what comfort he might have offered, small as it would have been.

"You're my ray of hope, Agnès. Why can't you let someone else be yours?"

"And who might that someone be, Tiz?" came the voice of Ringabel, catching Tiz quite off guard. The former shepherd nearly fell out of his bed as he looked up suddenly to see his fellow companion standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a rather small but mischievous smile upon his face. "You perhaps?" he added.

Tiz could hardly believe that he had not even heard the sounds of nearing footfalls, but here he stood and it was not long after that he caught sight of Edea striding past the door with anger in her steps. A thought quickly came to head, and with an equally quick pace, Tiz rose and pushed past Ringabel and called out to Edea, hurrying down the hall as he did. The blonde girl stopped at his voice, though when she saw who had called to her, Tiz shrank back. She stood with her hands upon her hips and leaned forward with a look of displeasure formed on her face.

"Thank you for leaving me alone with him," she stated sourly. "Why did you have to run off anyway?"

"I'm sorry," Tiz replied, staring down at the floor. "I just..."

"I know," Edea answered before he could speak. Her face seemed to soften as she spoke. "So, what did you want, Tiz?" The former shepherd looked up to meet her eyes before he spoke.

"I...well I was wondering if you wouldn't mind just looking in on Agnès. I know the two of you already share a room, and I just want to know if she's all right. She wouldn't let me in..." He could not finish his words, for at his request Edea's mouth began to curl into the same smile he had earlier seen upon the face of Ringabel.

"You like her, don't you?"

Once again, Tiz was caught quite by surprise as words he expected to come from the black mage who shared his room tonight came not from his lips at all. His face went red, as red as the beets some of his villagers had once grown. "I..." he stammered.

"Come on," said she quickly, beckoning him to follow. "It won't be enough for me to tell you if she's all right. Don't worry, Tiz," she added as they slowly walked back towards the small room at the end of the hall. "I'm sure she's fine."

Tiz noticed the uncertainty in her own voice that sounded out far louder than the dull thud of her boots against the floor. He was certain that they shared the very same worry for Agnès, though he did wonder if perhaps his concern was not bound to mere friendship, yet now was not the time for such matters of the heart. Still, he could not help but swallow as he stood before the door that had denied him entry only moments ago.

He wished only to comfort the young woman inside, if he were allowed, but the sudden declaration made by Edea lingered in his ears and his mind. Were the times better, were the passing of the night not marked by pain and loss, and were the world itself not a crushing weight upon the vestal's shoulders, Tiz wondered if this visit might have brought forth words he had never before pondered to say to any woman.

The tapping of Edea's hand against the door brought his thoughts back to the moment where it surely belonged. There was little time to wonder what might have been on this night, and Tiz knew it well.

"Agnès," said Edea. No answer came. She knocked again, just as he had done, and she called out once again. Once again, only silence gave its reply. Tiz wondered if she would knock a third time, and he was about to ask when Edea simply opened the door.

"She said she wasn't dressed," Tiz whispered in objection, though she paid him no mind as she stepped inside. She did not go far, before she turned back around to face the young shepherd. Edea placed a finger to her lips and motioned for him to enter with her. At first, Tiz found his face again growing warm as his cheeks again turned the same shade of crimson, and his feet refused to budge. Edea furrowed her brow and grabbed him by the wrist to pull him inside.

And then Tiz saw her.

He found Agnès lying upon her bed, curled as a frightened child, and she was fully clothed. Tiz walked to the side of the bed to get a glimpse of her face. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was ajar. Her chest gently rose and fell in steady movements, and it relieved Tiz to know she had not succumbed to her own sorrow. He knew little of her bond with the temple acolytes, but surely they had loved her as a daughter, and Agnès surely returned such love. Her cheeks were tinted red, and Tiz knew all too well why.

She had cried herself to sleep.

Tiz only stood silently before the sleeping vestal. As he watched her, he began to feel the familiar sting of sadness, though it was hardly the same as the sort that haunted him day upon day. It was not the same rending pain of watching his brother fall to his death or the knowledge that he had lost all he had ever known. No, it was rather a brief ache, and though it was of a lesser sort, his heart felt it nevertheless.

"Oh, Agnès," he uttered softly.

"You should go on now," he heard Edea whisper in his ear. "I'll look after her for you." When he remained where he stood, like a great tree keeping its ever-present watch upon the land, she went on, "you can't do anything for her tonight. Let her sleep."

With a reluctant nod, Tiz turned away from the vestal's bedside and left, though he heard his words repeated by the fairy that had slipped inside. He did not hear anything more, for Edea had shut the door behind him.

* * *

Tiz walked slowly back towards his room. Though his stocking feet made no noise, every step seemed to echo with the thundering of his own heart and mind. He felt a great saddness for the young woman lying in whatever dreams her loss would grant her. Though she had not spoken of it, he wondered if the acolytes had ever sung her to sleep as a child. Now, he thought of the lullaby of her own sobbing, and it saddened him as well. He remembered his own mother softly singing him and Til to sleep when they were only boys, and he, likewise, knew the sad thoughts of falling asleep with eyes filled with tears and sobs leaping from the throat.

It was not only the common understanding that filled Tiz's mind, however. Though he could think of no worse thing than to be lulled to sleep by weeping, he imagined that it was far worse to do so with the belief that it must be done alone. More than that, he recalled how she had lied to him, if only to keep him away. And yet, he did not feel any anger towards Agnès. With the sight of her in his mind's eye, Tiz could not do anything of the kind. However, in the place of the heat of anger, he felt the bitter chill of hurt filling his heart.

"Why couldn't you let me in?" Tiz asked the air, as he drew near to his room. He wondered what sort of pride could cause any to shut themselves away. Was it because of her station in life? Was it the teachings of Crystalism that caused her to believe such a thing? Or was it that Agnès still considered him to be a meddler as she had the day they met? In their travels, he had thought they had grown closer, and yet now, it seemed that she was all the more distant.

And when he entered his own room, he walked past the still-standing Ringabel without a word, though the blonde man refused to remain silent.

"There's no reason to hide the fact that you like Agnès," Tiz heard him say, though his voice seemed afar. "You'll have to tell her at a better time, though, if you ever want to get her into your bed, Tiz. Getting any woman is like tending a flower, but it's well worth it."

The young shepherd gave no answer, not even a look of disgust at the words of counsel, such as they were. He barely even regarded Ringabel's presence, as the image of Agnès lingered. He only made himself ready for bed, though his mind was far from sleep even as his wearied body desired it. He did not think of sharing a bed with her or even a simple kiss. He only wished that he could have been at her side. He only wished that he could have held her close as she wept. He only wished that his shoulder would have borne her tears. He only wished that she would have opened the door so that she would know she had no need to bear her burden alone.

Settling into bed and hearing Ringabel do the same, Tiz silently whispered one last thing to the air, unwilling to let it remain within him.

"I'll always be there for you, Agnès." he said, wishing he could have said it to the vestal herself. "I'll be your ray of hope when you need one."

And then sleep overtook him.

* * *

**A/N:** I tend to think that Tiz is one to dwell on loss, and I'd think he'd worry about Agnès at a particularly low point like this. Since he's so protective of her, I also think he'd probably want to make sure she was all right. I hope that didn't make him seem creepy, but like I said, I figured he would want to check on her. And yes, I do have them paired in my own head, so I imagine he might feel a bit hurt that she won't open up to him.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and the next chapter will be the last.


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